


10.4

by bonebo



Series: Kinktober '16 [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bukkake, Dirty Talk, Gangbang, M/M, Slurs, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 16:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8216992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: The recreation room is dingy, cramped, filled with the stench of sex and stale smoke and heavy with the weight of insistent responsibility--it fits Blackwatch to a tee, Jack thinks.
  kinktober 4 - bukkake





	

The recreation room is dingy, cramped, filled with the stench of sex and stale smoke and heavy with the weight of insistent responsibility--it fits Blackwatch to a tee, Jack thinks, while he looks again at his watch. He should have left an hour ago; should have torn Gabriel away an hour ago, instead of yielding to the desperate look in those soulful brown eyes and the breathy, almost-plea of, _“Fifteen more minutes. Please.”_

And, well. Who was Jack to deny the Blackwatch Commander anything?

But those fifteen minutes had come and gone, and there was only so much stalling Jack could do. He needed to go, and before he could go, he needed to get Gabriel.

His steps are careful as he crosses the room, eyes fixed on the half-dozen bodies crowding the corner; it’s all a show of skin, but Jack’s been in the military too long to care about seeing their states of undress or the quick motions of their hands between their thighs, the sweat that makes them shine. What does grab his attention is the noise, low and absolutely vulgar--slick sounds and slurs hissed like venom, the occasional soft, heady moan. Jack’s seen it enough, orchestrated it enough, to know that they’re only doing what Gabriel demands; he knows the words that whip his ire are the very same that keep Gabriel’s knees bound to the floor. But he can’t help his heated flush as he finally gets close enough to make out what’s being said.

“Filthy, filthy slut…”

“Watch him--gagging for it. So desperate.”

“He’s just a hungry, dirty cockwhore.”

The crowd parts a little, enough to swallow up Jack and his blue duster with nothing more than a few quick glances--this is far from the first time he’s been here, to witness these events. He tells himself that he knows what to expect by now, but he’s still caught off guard.

The old carpet is stained with splotches of darkness and crusted over in wayward streaks of translucent white, caked in patches of mud. There’s cigarette butts ground into the fraying fibers, and in the middle of the debris, of course, is Gabriel--bare-chested, kneeling for his soldiers with his head tipped back, a woman riding his face and his hands busy stroking two of the cocks that are within his reach. As Jack stares, he can see the twitch of working muscles in Gabriel’s neck and jaw, watch the woman’s hands turn to fists in Gabriel’s short-cropped curls; she looks over at Jack as if noticing him for the first time, and her sudden, breathy cry fills the room as her hips stutter to a halt above Gabriel’s face. After a few moments of tense stillness, she pants and works her pelvis in small, grinding circles, not releasing her grip. Watching the frantic swallow of Gabriel’s throat under her has Jack’s own cock stirring in possessive interest. 

He tries to will away the dark feeling that grumbles in his core, speaking to him of marking, claiming, possession--Gabriel had wanted this, said he needed it. Jack had agreed. 

The woman finally moves, straightening up and staggering away from the group; and Gabriel’s face is revealed to the room, drenched from hairline to chin with drying fluid, the woman’s clear slick dripping in thick strings from his beard. He looks at Jack and blinks blearily, not bothering to pause in his dual stroking of the cocks in his hands as he lowly rumbles, “You want a turn, papi?”

It’s not a bad idea--and judging by the murmurs from the Blackwatch agents around him, they seem to agree. Jack scowls, stepping closer to Gabriel and reaching for his fly, unbuttoning his BDUs with sharp, quick movements; he shoots a dark, silent look to the two agents taking occupancy of Gabriel’s hands, and they slink back into the crowd to finish the work their Commander started. 

Jack pulls his half-hard cock out, lets it just barely brush over Gabriel’s lips, watches him kiss at it hungrily. One of Gabriel’s eyes is all but held closed, sticky white clumping up his lashes; the other is glazed over, soft brown almost overwhelmed by his blown pupil. He keeps his gaze trained on Jack’s face, and makes a show of licking the wetness from his beard, savouring it in his mouth before swallowing, trying to goad a reaction.

Jack knows he’s already late--and the agents are watching him, waiting for him to make a move, to rise to Gabriel’s challenge. At this point, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Go on, then.” 

It’s all the encouragement Gabriel needs. Jack sighs quietly as his cock is enveloped in warm, wet heat, subjected to the tight suction of Gabriel’s mouth; he immediately rolls his hips to seat himself deeper, impatient in his chase for the clutch of Gabriel’s throat, and settles a hand in sticky-wet hair to convince Gabriel to move quicker.

This close, he can see the evidence of the activities he’d left his lover to--the dried glaze streaked across his forehead and tacky white ropes over the bridge of his nose, the cum pooled in his deepest scars and over his shorn hair. He’s filthy with the spend of his Blackwatch, but still eager as he follows Jack’s guiding pulls, swallowing him down and nuzzling at the coarse blonde hair framing the root of his cock.

Jack is, clearly, the one dominating the scene now; but that doesn’t mean Gabriel is off the hook with his agents. They come and go in fleeting, urgent cycles, spraying their seed across the back of Gabriel’s neck or over his scalp, covering his cheeks in yet more cum--and every time they do, that dark gnawing at Jack’s stomach gets louder and louder, until it finally spills past his lips in a growl.

“Look at them use you,” he rumbles, shifting forward; his boot finds the hardness straining under Gabriel’s BDUs, and he presses down enough to hear the soft whine muffled by flesh. “Like you’re nothing. Just a place to dump their cum.”

Gabriel shivers, hands coming up to grab Jack’s hips, nails digging in--he’s close. Jack knows he’s probably been on the edge of cumming for the past hour, if not longer; just needing something potent and personal, something none of his agents could give, to tip him over the edge.

Needing _Jack_.

“They’re watching you,” he says, holding Gabriel’s head still and rutting into his mouth hungrily, biting his lip at the wet, choked noise Gabriel rewards him with. “They know what you are--but I want you to prove it. Cum with them watching me fuck your mouth, Gabriel.”

Gabriel’s nails dig in harder, his gaze snapping up frantically--Jack smirks, waits for a few moments for Gabriel’s hot mouth to coax his own arousal to peak, and delivers the killing blow.

“Grind against my boot and cum in your pants, like a good boy.”

The result is immediate. Gabriel quakes in a hands-free climax, spine bowing and mouth falling open; Jack slicks a fist over his cock frantically for a few seconds, captivated by the sight, before he hits his own release. He snatches Gabriel back by his hair and jerks him close, biting down on his moans as he streaks Gabriel’s cheeks and forehead with his cum, smears the final flecks over his swollen lips. 

Jack steps back, panting softly; and at the sight of Gabriel, humbled and reeling from climax, marked as Jack’s where he sits in the Blackwatch base, is enough to put the beast in his belly to rest.


End file.
